


Shadows

by dawnchsr



Category: Tour of Duty (1987)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-08
Updated: 2011-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:12:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnchsr/pseuds/dawnchsr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Myron and Nikki run into each other in Saigon</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

Myron had no idea why he let McKay talk him into coming into Saigon. But here they were, weaving through crowded streets in the heavy heat of the afternoon. He could be back in his hootch, working on that endless pile of paperwork he always had and drinking warm scotch. Instead he let McKay lead him through the street markets, doing his best to ignore everything around him.

Saigon was often an overwhelming collection of noise, smells, colors and people, wrapped in the sticky heat and all coming at Myron at right angles. McKay’s chatter filtered in and out of Myron’s awareness as he tuned into key words and remained noncommittal to the rest of the conversation. It seemed enough for McKay who didn’t appear to take offense to Myron’s barely tolerant and distracted attitude.

He was probably as resigned to this being the package as much as Myron was.

The pilot had recently taken on an orphanage and with his usual enthusiasm, dragged not only the team medic into his campaign, but the entire team. It was one of the few things Myron had no problem with. Despite what some thought, he actually liked kids. And the orphanage gave his men something “decent” to work for.

And in the wake of Phu-an…

McKay couldn’t get everything from the PX or from the dispensary stores despite Colonel Brewster’s willing generosity. What the pilot couldn’t get at the camp, he searched for in the jumble of market stalls. It gave McKay a focus and Myron wasn’t going to begrudge the man that. He had to remind himself that he wasn’t the only one grieving. McKay just handled it differently.

Several hookers hanging out in the shade of a bar’s doorway called out. Myron didn’t hear the words, just the tone. He flicked his gaze over them, their outrageously tight tops and short skirts a riot of colors even in the shade. The eyes were always empty though and Myron looked away even as McKay grinned a greeting and called over his shoulder “Maybe another time!”

Myron fished out his cigarettes and absently offered the pack to McKay. The pilot shook his head and Myron shrugged before tapping one out for himself. He’d just finished lighting up when a pack of street children raced up, all hands and giggles and quiet eyes. Both Myron and Johnny handed out some MPCs, shoving them into dirty hands before the children chased off down the street. Myron watched them until they disappeared into the crowd.

This country was nothing but sorrow and poverty.

“You’re such a pushover.”

Myron turned and met with McKay’s wide grin.

“Why’s that, McKay?”

The pilot shrugged and then nodded toward a stall that had books stacked in crates. The Vietnamese shopkeeper who apparently ran the stall bowed his head a few times and stepped out of the way, waving the two American GIs in with a promise of a fair price in his broken English. Myron stripped his sunglasses off in the relative shade of the canopy, tucking them into a pocket.

“A lot of guys would just chase those kids off, think they’re nothing more than street rats.” Johnny pulled out a thin children’s book and with a smile showed it to Goldman before setting it aside.

“I don’t consider them street rats, you know that.” Myron didn’t find anything in the first box he was looking through so he started on another.

“It’s nice to see not everything has died.”

Myron didn’t reply to that. There was no point. And McKay could believe whatever he wanted.

McKay was having more success at finding books and Myron was about to give up on the second box when he came across one worn copy. He handed it over to the pilot who added it to the small stack he was gathering.

Myron let himself get lost in the hunt, allowing himself to read titles and authors and occasionally flipping one open to read a quick paragraph or two before putting it back. Most were in sorry shape but Myron always found a certain amount of serenity with books and the places they could take him. Even now, they took him away from the noisy hot streets of Saigon and his own unhappiness as he allowed himself brief glimpses into tattered pages.

He wasn’t prepared for the gentle hand on his arm. He snapped his head up, senses instantly on defense before his mind registered the person standing beside him. Everything focused sharply with a quick intake of breath, Myron’s world instantly narrowing as he stared at the woman he counted on never seeing again.

 

*** *** ***

She couldn’t be sure when she saw the two officers across the street before they went into a street vendor’s stall. She’d only a glimpse and the eyes had been hidden behind sunglasses. Yet she found herself drawn to cross the busy street, threading her way through the throng of people. When she got there, she paused, feeling suddenly foolish as she looked at the backs of the two men. What were the chances she’d run into him here? Here in Saigon, while she was on her last few days in country before going home?

She was about to turn away, catch up with her friends that she had abandoned without a word and apologize, when one of the young officers turned, cigarette in his mouth as he extended a book to the other one. The sunglasses were off now and Nikki got her first real look at the other man.

She let herself stare, a wealth of memories and emotions swirling up around her, filling her thoughts, making her breath catch. Myron was digging through another box of books, flipping one open every so often to read briefly before replacing it. He looked thinner, Nikki thought, but everything else was the same.

Nikki didn’t even realize she had gone in until she had her hand on his arm. Myron’s head came up fast, eyes dark and brilliant with every muscle tensed. How could she forget this was an infantry officer, a man used to the bush? She’d been foolish to come up and surprise him like this.

“Myron.”

He stared at her with those amazing dark eyes. But there was nothing of his laughter and sweetness there. She wanted to shrink back at the sharpness and the restless anger that stared at her now. There was sorrow there, a deep sorrow that Nikki recognized as grief. And a simmering fury that was kept on a tight leash.

He didn’t say anything, only stared at her and Nikki had to fight the urge to fidget under the scrutiny.

“Hey, Goldman, I didn’t know we were picking up nurses here!”

Nikki flicked her nervous glance to a very handsome pilot who showed her a brilliant smile.

“You going to introduce me here, Myron?”

Something flickered in the dark eyes and Myron took the cigarette from his lips, dropping it to the ground and immediately grinding it out under his heel. “No. Trust me, McKay, you don’t want to know this one.”

The words were like a slap, startling Nikki who could only stare when Myron shoved past her and out into the street. The smile faded from the pilot’s face as he watched his friend leave. “Hey, Goldman, what the hell?!”

Nikki didn’t know what possessed her, but she bolted after Myron. He was already across the street and she caught sight of him as he shoved past a couple of hookers and into a bar. The street was a kaleidoscope of noise and color as she pushed her way past people and into the bar.

She paused on the doorstep, letting her eyes adjust to the shadows of the room. It was crowded with GIs and prostitutes, the air choked with smoke, cheap perfume and some other smells Nikki didn’t want to think about. She ignored the catcalls and whistles of a couple of soldiers as she threaded her way over to the bar.

Myron had lit a fresh cigarette which he held in one hand as he knocked back a shot glass full of whiskey with the other. Apparently he’d asked the bartender to leave the bottle as he quietly poured the glass full again.

“Come in for a drink, Nikki?” He didn’t look at her as he took a drag on his cigarette. Behind them two Marines got into a shouting match and a hooker shrieked. “They don’t offer a lot here, just booze and sex. But you can’t beat the ambience, now can you?” He drank down half of the glass before setting it back on the bar.

“Myron-“

“What are you doing in Saigon, Nikki?”

From the corner of her eye, Nikki saw the pilot come into the room. But he didn’t approach, instead he took a small table by the door. She started to reach for Myron, to put her hand on his arm but froze when he fixed her with a look that chilled her.

“Myron, what’s happened? It’s like I don’t know who you are.”

Myron finished the glass and poured another one full.

He glanced at her with those brilliant eyes. “How could you possibly know me- you never took the time to find out in the first place.”

“Myron-“

“You want to know what happened, Nikki?” He swept his arm out and Nikki was forced to duck. “Take a look around you.” He studied the glass on the bar, but didn’t pick it up. “The war happened, Nikki.”

“Myron, I had to survive. I wanted you to understand that.” She ducked her head, swallowing down her hurt. “I needed you to understand.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Myron stubbed out the last of the cigarette and tapped out a new one. He offered the pack to Nikki who could only stare at him before he shrugged and tossed it on the bar next to his glass. He lit up with sharp movements before taking a deep drag and watching the smoke hang in the heavy air. “You were easy to move on from.” He turned enough to fix her with cool eyes before he tossed a glance over his shoulder at the rest of the room.

“I look at you now and I see nothing but shadows.” Myron traced one finger along the rim of his glass. “All of it- you, Ladybird, the kids I’m responsible for, Alex, every-fucking-thing around here… it’s all shadows now.” He finished what was in the glass reached for the bottle. “All of it.”

This time she did reach out, her hand on his wrist, stopping him from reaching the bottle. The muscles went rigid under her fingers as he looked up at her with an icy glare. The bitterness washed over her. She didn’t know how to respond to it or to a man she once let herself love. There had been laughter between them at one time. The Myron she remembered had a gentleness and a sweetness she believed would save him from the worst of the war- if he didn’t get himself killed.

But something had happened and Nikki could no longer recognize the man who was now drowning in grief.

Eyes narrowing, Myron stared at her unblinking until she withdrew her hand.

“Myron-“

“Go away, Nikki. You ran away from me once.” Myron snuffed out the cigarette before fishing some money out of his pants pocket and tossing it on the bar. “You’d be advised to run away from me again.”

He pushed past her without another look and she watched him as he went back out into the street. The pilot, who at some point must have gotten a beer, climbed quickly to his feet. He looked at her with confusion before he slipped out the door behind Myron.

She didn’t know what had happened. But chasing Myron down wasn’t going to give her the answers, at least not ones she could live with.

 

*** *** ***

 

Johnny scrambled to his feet when Goldman pushed past the crowd and back into the street. He hadn’t missed the look in the other man’s eyes and he turned in confusion to stare at the woman who remained at the bar. She wasn’t looking at him, but at Goldman’s retreating back. There was regret and sorrow in her eyes.

Johnny tossed some money on the table and charged out after his friend. He could see Goldman pushing his way through the crowded streets, heading in the direction where they’d left the jeep. It would be useless to call out, so Johnny shoved into the busy street, dodging people and traffic to catch up.

Myron had just reached the jeep and was starting to climb in behind the wheel when Johnny caught up to him. Without thinking, Johnny caught his arm. “Hey, Goldman, hold on a minute!”

Myron spun around on him in a flash, hand raised in a fist, eyes brilliant with rage and grief. Johnny froze under the intensity, but didn’t back down.

“Back off, McKay, you don’t want to get in my face right now.” Myron bit the words out as he raised his head.

“You want a piece of me, Goldman, go right ahead- but this time I hit back.” Johnny still had a grip on Myron’s arm. “Go ahead if you think you can take me on.”

Myron jerked free of his grasp then shoved Johnny back before he turned around and braced both hands on the hood of the jeep. His whole body shook with fine tremors as he hung his head and clenched his fists.

“Who is she, Myron?”

“None of your fucking business, okay, McKay?” Goldman slammed one fist down on the hood. “Do us both a favor and just leave it the hell alone.”

“Like I do everything else for you…” Johnny muttered under his breath, then quickly moved to block Myron when the other man started to once again get in behind the wheel.

Goldman fixed him with one of those icy stares. Johnny was used to being on the receiving end of that look and didn't back down. “You want me to leave it alone? Fine, but I’m driving us back to the camp. You just drank half a bottle of scotch back there.”

Fury leaped across the dark eyes and this time Johnny was sure Myron was going to deck him. Ready to take the hit, he stood his ground. He’d be damned if he let Goldman drive back in the state he was in. Even if the guy hadn’t just knocked back that much liquor in such a short time, he was entirely too wound up emotionally to think rationally.

“Fine, have it your way.” Myron snapped with ill grace and shoved McKay out of the way to go around to the passenger side.

Johnny rolled his shoulders and his eyes before he climbed into the jeep and started it. With a glance behind him before he put it in gear and backed up, he muttered under his breath about trying to save idiots from themselves. He bit back a curse when he ground the gears to get it into first, ignoring Goldman’s wintry look as people around them hustled out of the way.

He’d get Goldman back to the camp in one piece whether Myron wanted him to or not. But then Johnny had every intention of tracking down Anderson to tell him what had happened. He was willing to bet the sergeant, who’d known Goldman since the guy came in country, knew exactly who that woman was.

If Anderson wasn’t going to tell him, he’d try the rest of Team Viking who, with the exception of Doc Hockenbury, had come from Ladybird with Goldman as well.

Johnny figured his chances were pretty good on finding out exactly who she was and what she was to Goldman.

*** *** ***

Myron watched the smoke from his cigarette crawl lazily for the ceiling with half closed eyes. He sat on his bunk with one leg tucked under him, the room draped in shadows as he hadn’t bothered to flip a light on to fight back the encroaching twilight. What was the point? He didn’t need to see to get drunk and work his way through a pack or three of cigarettes.

The ride back to camp with McKay had been in stony silence. For all his annoyances, McKay did know when to shut the fuck up and not ask questions and this was one of them. Even so, Myron had no doubt that the pilot went right to Anderson about what had happened. It was one of the many ways McKay handled him.

Everyone coped with grief in their own way. Or didn’t. Myron tapped the ashes off in the c-rat can he had on the blanket beside him. It was moments like these that Myron was reminded how selfish he was in his own grief by doing everything possible to ignore McKay’s.

And McKay’s was there, buried under his quick smiles and easy going attitude. But it was there, and when Myron was caught off guard, he could see it in the other man’s eyes. When Myron’s defenses were low, when Johnny thought he saw a moment to reach out, Myron could feel it grate against his nerves, not unlike rough sheets on sunburned skin. Myron would always flinch away from it. He couldn’t handle his own pain, how could McKay expect him to take on his too?

And as if Myron didn’t have enough to deal with, in waltzes the one person he never thought he’d see again. Never wanted to see again. She was even more dead to him than Alex.

For fuck sakes…

Myron knocked back the contents of his glass and reached for the bottle. He was going to hate himself in the morning. But then he could admit that he hated himself now. And everything around him.

The air was thick with the heat and humidity. There’d be no relief from it tonight. So why not get drunk? It was the only way to hide from the shadows that haunted him. He had dealt with Nikki’s shadow months ago, he’d simply pretended she was never a part of his life and moved on too fast with Alex.

He blamed Nikki for that. For something he would never have done under any other circumstances. He didn’t believe in jumping from one bed to another but that’s pretty much what he did. Nikki walked away from him without a backward glance so Myron put the relationship behind him the same way.

There wasn’t a person in all of Tan Son Nhut who didn’t know what Alex was doing, including Myron. Yet he went along with it, dove in head first when what he normally would have done was shoved her at McKay and told her to play her games somewhere else. He wasn’t interested.

He had been that desperate and needy. He hadn’t wanted to be alone- so much so that he turned to Alex.

And how pathetic was that?

The glass was empty again and Myron stared at it. He wasn’t drunk enough yet as the shadows were still there, still whispering to him. He filled the glass again before crushing out the spent cigarette and reaching for his pack and lighter.

He wished it would rain.

 _Her laughter on the sea breeze as they chased each other in the southern California surf. The war was a million miles away and they were both on leave before he shipped out in a few weeks. Her hair spilled around her bare shoulders, her eyes sparkled with laughter. He caught her around the waist, swung her around and tumbled them to the warm sand. The feel of her skin against his, the taste of her…_

Myron jerked his head up and found himself staring at Anderson. He never heard the other man knock or come in. Anderson now stood at the end of his bed, eyes filled with concern. Myron could sense it on the thick air as he glanced at his watch. McKay had brought him back more than an hour ago.

 _What took you so long, Sergeant?_

“L-T, you okay?”

 _Oh yeah, your lieutenant’s getting hammered once again… yeah, I’m just fine, Sergeant._

Myron lit up the fresh cigarette and climbed to his feet, putting the room and Anderson behind him as he went to the door. With the cigarette between his fingers, he traced them down the worn screen.

Behind him he could hear Anderson screw the cap back on the bottle of whiskey and store it. He flipped the desk lamp on, the weak light pooling on the floor between them.

“L-T-“

“Yes, Sergeant, it was Nikki.”

And there it was, the elephant in the room. Maybe she’d always been there and Myron had been good at ignoring her. He was no longer sure.

 _A hotel room, dusky with shadows. She was draped over him, her head on his chest as he absently combed his fingers through her hair. A breeze played through the curtains and over damp flesh and she shifted and looked at him with a sleepy smile…_

Zeke was standing beside him, touching his arm. Myron stared at him, Nikki’s laughter echoing in his ears.

And her final words to him at Chu-lai.

He looked away, staring into the darkened compound and swallowed against his bitterness. The memories of her were too sharp and he realized he was letting himself be cut up into tiny pieces with them.

How different would things be if she hadn’t turned her back on him? Would he be this frightened and angry and bitter? In the end, would he still be grieving, but for something else entirely?

“L-T…”

“I saw her, Anderson, and I realized I’m not that person anymore- the one I was at Ladybird. The one who wanted to marry her…” Myron felt his voice crack and he ducked his head. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t like who I’ve become.” _Every day I feel like I’m dying a little more…_

“There ain’t a one of us the same man we were back at Ladybird, L-T.” Anderson had his hands in his pockets, worry shimmering in the bright eyes when Myron glanced at him. His friend was trying, but often times Myron’s anguish was more than any one person could easily handle. Even Anderson.

“You never do, Sergeant.” Myron shook his head. “Through everything, you somehow come out on the other side the same man. I envy that, sometimes…” It was a lie and they both knew it.

Myron sucked in a deep breath and turned back to the camp, pressing his forehead to the screen. “It hasn’t even been a year and all of it seems like a lifetime ago. Ladybird, Nikki…”

There was the prick of tears and Myron squeezed his eyes shut against them. Anderson said nothing, rock steady in his silent understanding and support, letting Myron pour the anguish over him. What else could he do?

“God, I was so convinced I loved her enough to forgive her anything…then I saw her today and understood for the first time I never did forgive her and I never will. It’s a war, we do what we have to survive but I can’t forgive her that. She wanted, _needed_ me to understand.” Myron looked at Zeke as the anguish threatened to close his throat. “I can’t, I can only hate her. Hate her for what I’ve become. My god, what does that make me?”

Zeke reached out and rested his hand on Myron’s shoulder. “It makes you alive, kid, plain ‘n’ simple. It makes you alive.”

 _If only that were true, my friend… but we both know I died a long time ago._


End file.
